


Team Work

by Carohas



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rugby, Alternate Universe - Sports, F/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 08:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3439967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carohas/pseuds/Carohas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: How about an au where Bellamy is a professional athlete and Clarke is his team's athletic trainer?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"So, team, as you know, we’ve been on the look out for someone to fill my old spot as assistant coach, and I’m pleased to announce that we have finally hire someone for the position. Everyone, please welcome Miss Clarke Griffin." The deafening sound of applause made its way around their changing room as she stepped for with a small inclination of her head.   
"Thank you, guys. My name is Clarke Griffin, as Coach Kane said. I’m pretty young, but like most of you, I’ve been watching rugby all my life, and I’ve been supporting the Arkers for just as long. I look forward to getting to know you all, and taking out the cup this season!" Anything she might have wanted to say has now been cut off by a series of shouts and cheers that doesn’t end until Coach has blown his whistle and demanded they meet him out on the field in five. 

"Dude, the new assistant coach is  _hot_.” It takes everything he has in him not to turn around and tell Murphy what’s what. _We agreed, Bellamy._  
”Yeah, she’s alright, I guess. I mean, if you go for that Princessy, blonde bimbo type then I guess scores 10/10.” He hates himself for saying these things about her.   
"Reckon I can get her to sleep with me?"  
"Mate, she’d be likely to lose her job. I don’t think you’re worth it."  
"We’ll see about that." Bellamy has to turn away to avoid showing Murphy his clenched jaw and tightened fists. Murphy exits their teams’ changing room, leaving him alone and free to hit his palm against his locker.  _It’s important to me, Bellamy._

He joins his team on the field, just as their coach is barking orders at them to complete today’s set of drills. Before long, he’s done the first two parts of the circle, and it’s time for him to switch and go to Clarke’s drill.   
"Okay boys," she addresses the five players she has there, "time to work out those quads. I want you each to jump up onto this desk here 10 times before our two minutes are up." She pulls out a stopwatch, "and go!" She yells consistently for the next two minutes. "Higher! Come on, Miller, you’ve got more in you! Good form, Blake, Murphy, what was that? Come on! Another 5 or you’ll be doing lunges across the field for the next 10 minutes!"  
He walks away from her station with a heaving chest and a lingering look.

He’s known Clarke Griffin since they were small, but it’s only in the last few years that they’ve become, well,  _close._  Her parents didn’t exactly agree with her decision to pursue a career as a professional trainer. Well,  _parent_. By the time she’d finished high school, it was just her and her mum, who staunchly believed that her child was the next greatest neurosurgeon.   
That was when they’d reconnected, for want of a better term. They’d both ended up in the same course, one designed for trainers who were looking to pursue a career in the world of professional rugby, and wanted to better understand the stresses that put the body under. From then on, they’d been study partners, and when his course finished and he began to focus solely on making it to the national team, he’d basically become her test subject.   
Having her around helped him. Taking the ball down to the park she could tell him what he was technically doing wrong, and help him get a feel for it in practice.   
That was how he knew she was perfect for the job that had opened up as assistant coach to his Super 15 team. He just hadn’t realised how hard it would be to pretend not to know each other’s ins and outs. 

"Bellamy people are going to realise something’s going on!" 

"No they’re not, Princess." He says it lazily, a stark contrast to her stressed and shrill voice.  
"Bellamy, please, take this seriously. How could they not notice?"  
"Believe it or not, Clarke, I can actually keep my thoughts to myself."  
"Well then what was that on the field today, aye?" She crosses her arms over each other, her hip jutting out as she waits for an answer.  
"What was what?"  
She says, “this,” then follows it up with some kind of demonstration, her eyes locked onto his and her teeth slowly grazing her bottom lip.  _That’s hot._ "See! You’re doing it again!" Her arms move all over the place now, and she sits down at their table, as if she’s given up.  
"Doing what?!"  
"That whole  _I want you_  thing. It’s pretty fucking obvious, Bell.”  
He chuckles as he moves over to her, sitting at the corner of the table next to her, as she rests her head in her hands. “I think it’s pretty fucking obvious to  _you_ , Princess. How many times have you seen that look in the past 3 years? Now times that number by zero and you have the number of times my teammates have seen it. They’re not going to know, Clarke.” He kisses her forehead and tries to move back to his seat on the couch but her hand reaches out and stops him.  
"Bellamy?"  
He turns to her, “yeah, sweetheart?”  
"I’m sorry."  
"I know." Her body melts into his the way it has so many times before, her head finding its familiar spot on his chest while his own tilts and leans on hers. And, like on so many other occasions, her lips slowly make their way to his. Before long, she’s sitting on the the table with his hands at her thighs and his lips on her throat saying, "you’re going to have to try harder, you know."  
He splutters, bringing his head up to hers, “what?”  
"At work. At being professional," she furthers. "I think it’d be best if we just flat out pretend not to like each other."  
"And did you also think that  _now_  would be the best time to talk about it?”  
"It was on my mind," she says with a shrug.   
He groans in frustration as he saunters away, “I’m going to bed.”

Just like every other night, her hands and feet are cold when she jumps into bed after him. Pretending to be asleep, he so far hasn’t had to acknowledge her presence. That is until she presses her naked body against his, nuzzling into his neck under the guise of innocence, and his body starts to respond on his behalf.   
It’s not long before her nuzzling turns to soft kisses, and her hands are reaching around to run over his chest, lower, and lower, until he gasps at the contact beneath his boxers and hears her triumphantly whisper in his ear, “aha, I knew you weren’t sleeping.” Apparently that is only stage one of the seduction, because soon after that, she’s stretching over him to push him to his back and kissing her way down his body as she removes the only item of clothing that separates them. Slowly dragging her hands and lips back up to a respectable height, she tells him she’s sorry. “I didn’t mean to, y’know…” She says between kisses.   
"Princess, I’ve said it once, I’m sure I’ll say it again," he says it between the breaths he manages to choke out as Clarke kisses him, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You talk too much," he growls, then flips them over so he’s on top of her, determined to make her forget about anything other than this moment.   
Kneeling between her legs he hovers over her, his hand drawing slow and careful circles over her breast, his lips running down her jawline and over her neck, paying special attention to those spots he knows just do it for her. His lips come back up to her mouth, parting her lips and playing with her tongue, their teeth clashing as they each get a little bit more lost in the moment. His hand moves down, placing the gentlest of touches on her inner thigh, her lips parting and her tongue resting as she moves her hips toward them, desperate for the promise of what’s to come.   
He rests the palm of his hand on her pubic bone as he whispers in her ear, “something on your mind, Princess?” He grins at her lack of coherent response as he moves his fingers, finding her clit and watching her body spasm involuntarily as he does so. He keeps it up, rubbing circles and figure 8s until she’s right on the brink of orgasm, her eyes shut and her arms raised in a silent surrender. It’s a surrender she feels he betrays when he removes his fingers before she is done, and her eyes fly wide open.   
He looks down at her, “you didn’t answer the question, Princess. Is there something,” he kisses the junction of her jaw and throat, “on your,” he kisses her lips, “mind?” He whispers in her ear.   
This time it’s his with wide eyes as she takes control back and pushes him over.  _Two can play at this game_. She straddles his hips, her body sitting antagonisingly close to his throbbing erection, but not yet touching it. “Only one thing,” her lips kiss his chest as she leans forward, her breasts grazing his stomach and her hips moving down, finding his cock and hovering over it. “You,” is her final statement before pushing herself down on him, enjoying every moment of it. His eyes close for just a moment before she kisses him, tilts his chin back to her, and locks eyes with him as she pushes up, then back down quickly. It’s a movement she repeats, getting faster and faster as his hips begin to snap up to meet hers, never once breaking eye contact with one another, until the penultimate moment when she collapses over him, her body still spasming occasionally, and he spends himself inside her. She shudders as he moves out of her, a habit that always brings out the protective side of him, so her pulls her in tight to his chest, spooning her and pulling a blanket up over them again. They fall asleep like that, his arm around her waist, her arm around his, as if they were made for each other.

This isn’t the end of it though.   
In the morning as they leave in separate cars for work, she reminds him, “we hate each other, got it?”  
He nods reluctantly. “Just don’t lay it on too thick.” And with a nod and a kiss, she’s gone.


	2. Chapter 2

The last few days have been hellish. In two weeks they have their first game of the season, and given last season’s poor performance, the coaches are riding them harder than ever. It doesn’t help that Clarke seems to be there at every turn, either demanding more of him or blatantly ignoring him.   
She’s got him and Murphy practicing their conversions, it was one of his weakest points last season, and from what Clarke’s saying, it’s shaping up to be the same way this time around.   
"Blake, your form is all wrong. Don’t come back until you can get that between the posts with each leg ten times in a row." _Yes, Mother._ He knows his kicking’s not perfect, but it still stings hearing her speak to him so sharply, especially when all she seems to be able to do is sing Murphy’s praises. The man’s been walking around looking like the cat that got the cream ever since. Another thing that’s hard to handle. 

It isn’t until he sees her walking around in tight bike shorts that he decides to mix things up a little, and whistles as she walks by. He watches as she looks back at him, a little surprised, then walks toward him with a tight faux-smile.  _This ought to be good._  “Excuse me, Blake, what was that?”  
"What was what, Clarke?"  
"That’s Coach Griffin to you, Blake! Did you  _whistle_  at me as I walked past you?”  
He gives a little shrug and looks off into the distance, “maybe.”  
"And why did you whistle at me? Did you want my attention?"  _Yes, but not quite like this._  
"No, Coach."  
"Well then please, share with us," she gestures to the crowd that’s gathered, "why you felt the need to  _whistle_  at me as I walked.”  
He shrugs again, then looks her dead in the eyes as he responds “your ass looked hot,” and watches as her cheeks go bright red before yelling at him to go run laps.

Later, everyone’s gone and Clarke finds him alone on the field, still practicing that kick she told him to work on. She waits until she’s close enough that she’s certain no one could hear them before she asks, “you ready to go home?”  
"Just about," he says as he places the ball back on the tee and lines up another conversion, pacing back before running forward and kicking the ball right between the posts.  
"Nice."   
"Thanks," he says, with a cheeky grin he continues, "I’m really looking forward to seeing my girlfriend."  
"Oh yeah?"  
"Yeah, you see, she got this new job and it means we’re apart for a little longer than I’m used to, you ever had a relationship like that?"  
"Guilty as charged. But my boyfriend keeps saying nasty things to me."   
"Oh is that right?" He drops the ball he’s collected and starts walking to her. "Your boyfriend doesn’t sound like a very nice man. Maybe you should dump him."  
"Mmm…" Clarke pretends to consider it before shaking her head. "Nah, he’s too good in bed."  
"Oh is that all?" Bellamy’s closing the distance between them, and is about to reach out for her when she steps back from him.   
"No, he makes a good heater, too. And I love him." She’s still backing away from him, but his steps are bigger and he’s slowly gaining on her.   
"Oh you love him, do you? Guess that means we won’t be having a midnight tryst."  
"Well it is only 7 o’clock… I guess it all depends on when my boyfriend gets home," she said with a wink, then ran in the direction of her car, leaving Bellamy rubbing his head and timing how long it would take him to lock up and drive after her.

She heard the door slam behind her and smiled.  _He’s home._   _I’ve been waiting long enough._  Soon though, his arms are wrapped around her waist as she stirs the pot on the stove, and his lips are nibbling their way up to her ear, causing her to squirm and giggle. “Bellamy,  _stop_ , I’m trying to cook dinner.”   
He doesn’t stop. In fact, he furthers his pursuit to distract her from dinner, his hands moving lightly under her t-shirt to her waist, where he  _knows_  it tickles her most. “I heard you invited one of your players over. Had to make sure I got here before him.”  
"Bellamy! Do you even want dinner?"  
"Not unless it’s served from you." She gives an unimpressed huff, then he spins her around, away from the pot and toward the counter, where he can lift her up and enjoy the change in height. Not wanting to be distracted by burning pasta, he pushes the pot off the element and switches the gas off. "Now," he asks, "where were we?"


	3. Chapter 3

The stadium is abuzz with applause, their fans’ cheers echoing throughout the stadium and beyond as Bellamy is lifted high, the winning cup in his hands. He’s not sure he could smile any wider than he is right now, and it’s a sentiment he can see repeated across the faces of the whole team. They’ve finally managed to beat the Grounders, 6-8, thanks to some stellar defence from the boys and a last minute penalty from yours’ truly. Sitting atop Miller’s and Atom’s shoulders, he sees a blonde head of hair celebrating with the rest of them, the most excited smile he’s ever seen on her face.  _God, she’s beautiful._  He tears his eyes away before someone notices. 

He’s been set down, has relinquished the cup for photography purposes and is now mingling with the rest of them, alternating between being congratulated and giving congratulations when he bumps into her. “Clarke!” He pulls her in for a hug, his happiness too forceful to be ignored, or to care what the team thinks now that they’ve won. “Bellamy!” She extricates herself from his arms, and for a moment he fears her response, but he sees his joy reflected in her face as she talks. “You did so well, Bell! You had me worried there for a moment but I knew you’d pull through! Good thing I got you practicing those conversions, huh?” She says it with that cheeky grin of hers that makes him want to get his own back, but he can’t, not here. “Yeah, Princess, sure helped us out today.”  
She looks around and notices that everyone’s started moving off. “We’d better get back to it, before someone gets suspicious.” She sticks her hand out to him saying, “game well played, Blake.”  
He reaches for it, but his is not the formal touch of a handshake but rather the gentle stroke of an embrace. “Thank you, Coach Griffin.” After a moment she pries her eyes from his as she turns away to leave, but his hand pulls her back. “Meet me in the office.” Her smile as she nods slightly is strained, a show for the people around them, but his is one of pure mischief. 

"Bellamy? What did you-whoa!" From the dark corner beside her his arms reach around her waist, pulling her body flush against his as he kisses her, his hand reaching to her chin, stroking it gently and tilting her towards him in that way that he loves. He doesn’t know how long they stand there for, his back against the wall and the girl he loves pressed against him, moving her body in ways that should be illegal and kissing him as if it gives her life. He’s just starting to think about moving her over to that desk in the middle of the room, when she pulls away from him, suggesting they return to the team before someone gets suspicious. Before they can get back outside to the field though, Bellamy notices something wrong. "Clarke, did you put this here?" He gestures to the cup sitting in the middle of their conference room, which has a clear view into Clarke’s office.   
"No. That wasn’t there when I came in here…" Her voice has a tone of fear to it that brings out his protective side. "Do you think they know? Do you think they  _saw?_ ”  
"There’s only one way to find out." He leads her out the door and down the stairs back to where the team should be. It’s eerily quiet as they descend, but as they round the final corner, there they find them, whooting and cheering, whistling and making derogatory remarks. The only people who look less than amused are Collins’ and Murphy, who each had their own hopes of an affair.  _Not bloody likely._  He hears faint cries of “three cheers for Blake and Griffin!”  
"I knew all that hate couldn’t be real!"  
"Collins, you owe me ten bucks!’  
He turns to Clarke as she takes his hand, “well they know, now,” she says, raising his hand and playing along with their joke, earning another round of applause. 

It’s so embarrassing, all the banter about their relationship, and she’s not sure who saw them, but now that they know… Well it’s best just to play along with these things. When she looks up at Bellamy though, her heart almost gives way. He looks so adoringly at her, she can’t stop herself from reaching up to his neck and pulling his face down to hers, enjoying the brief flash of surprise in his eyes. It’s nice to know that after three and a half years together, and a lifetime of friendship she can still surprise him. He grins and completes their act, dipping her to the sound of more catcalls.

As they join their team, he loses count of how many people have clapped him on the back, but all that really matters is the girl who’s holding his hand.   
It’s not until they’re at the clubrooms that the interrogation  _truly_  begins. “So, when did you two start?”  
"Uh, about three years ago?"  
"Three and a half," Clarke interjects.  
"Sorry, three and a  _half_.” He says it, looking at her pointedly and pulling her into his side as she pokes her tongue out at him.   
Someone else pipes up, “why all the secrecy, aye?”  
"Hold on," Clarke says, "if we’re answering questions, then someone else is going to start answering some of ours. Like who saw us?"  
"It was Murphy!" Rings a cry from the back of the room.   
"Bloody Murphy," Bellamy whispers under his breathe. "Alright, fair’s fair, we kept it a secret because we wanted our professional lives to remain just that."  
"You did a really great job," Murphy said over his drink, sarcasm dripping from his tongue.   
"Well how long was I expected to keep my hands off her? Let alone keep hers off me!" The room erupts into laughter as she slaps at his chest, then really brings home the punishment as she whispers in his ear. "I’m going home, if you’re there before me I’ll show you what these hands can do." She trails off, kissing his cheek before she yells their chant one more time, and exits the building. He tries to play it cool, he really does. He tries to wait at least three minutes so he can slip out unnoticed and avoid the sound of cracking whips, and he fails. Miserably. Within 30 seconds of her leaving the room he’s saying, "right, well I’m off boys, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!" He skips his way down the stairs, practically running to his car as he sees hers pull out of the car park and drive into the distance.

She sees him behind her, then sees as he turns left, an attempt to take a shortcut. To be honest, she doesn’t care whether he gets there first or not, tonight is going to end happily either way.

His car is already parked in the garage when she pulls in.  _How did he…?_    
She climbs the stairs from the garage up to the living room, putting her bag down on the counter and deducing that Bellamy must be in the shower, given that she can hear the water running.  _Time to play my own game._

She walks into their ensuite in red lacy underwear, made all the more tantalising for its stark contrast to her ivory skin. “Hey, honey,” she says casually, bending over to get the moisturiser from under the sink.   
He’s speechless, the water running over his chest as he stands there, useless as she walks back out, leaving the door open as she sits on their bed, in full view of the shower. He groans, watching her run her hands up and down her legs, leaving them so silky smooth as the moisturiser works its magic.  _Clarke, what are you doing to me?_ It’s as he’s thinking this through that he realises the game she’s playing, and decides to play his own.

It’s been a full five minutes since she walked through the bathroom in her newest, sexiest lingerie, and 4.75 minutes since she expected him to follow her out.  _What is he doing?_ The water hasn’t stopped running, and now she’s beginning to suspect two things. Either a) she doesn’t hold the same appeal she once did, or b) he’s toying with her.   
She decides on the latter. 

Having finished his shower, he walks through their room to the kitchen, having mussed his hair up and tied his towel around his waist, an image he  _knows_  she appreciates.   
She’s standing at the counter, nursing a hot drink in her hands and wearing the short black satin robe he bought her years ago. It was hellishly expensive, but it’s times like these that he’s glad he shelled out.   
"Hello, champion."  _I like the sound of that._  
"Good evening, seductress. Have you seen my girlfriend anywhere?" He comes to stand a foot in front of her, crossing his arms and looking down at her with what he hopes is a charming smirk.

Clarke puts her cup down and lets her robe slip from her shoulder as she responds, “no, I think she’s gone for the evening.” She stands straighter, and closer to him, hoping it gives him a better view and trying not to outrightly stare at his shirtless form.  _He’s so hot. Clarke! Get it together, this is a game you want to win._

Her new position in front of him has afforded him a marvellous view that he’s struggling not to focus on.  _Come on, Blake. Get your head in the game._  He steps closer again, reaching for her hand and drawing soft circles on her wrist, waiting for her to make the next move.

_Maybe we can come to some sort of truce…_  It’s a thought that crosses her mind as she leans toward him, her hand running lightly over, then resting on his chest. “Clarke…” He whispers in a strangled voice, his warm breath touching her ear and making her squirm.  _That tickles._  His lips touch the skin just behind her ear, and make a slow progression to her throat as she turns her head to give him better access.

Her hands feel like fire against his body. One is curled into the hair at the nape of his neck, whilst the other is trying to bring his body closer to hers. He reaches his arms up to her face, tilting her chin back and kissing her with an open mouth as he pushes the satin robe off her shoulders with ease.

His hands are at her back, now holding her body tight against his as he kisses her, leaving her breathing heavily as he stops abruptly and walks back into their room.  _What was that?!_  
She follows him.

He smiles to himself as he walks back to their room, hearing her lightly padded footsteps behind him.  _I’ve totally won this round._ He soon learns the value of not speaking too soon when she walks past him as naked as the day she was born, and lays down on their bed like in that scene from The Titanic.  _Daaaamn._  
For a moment he weighs up his options. “Fine, you win!” He says with exasperation.   
"Did you really think it was going to go any other way?" She asks. He starts to crawl across his side of the bed to hers.   
"No, I suppose not. Thought I might at least try, though."   
He puts one arm over her head, and bends down to kiss her as her hands take his towel off. He supposes her impatience is a small kind of victory.

Having pulled his towel off, she pulls him onto her, wanting the comforting weight of him on top of her. He grunts slightly as his erection touches her thigh, and pulls away from her, his whole face a question that she answers with a challenging smirk. With that, he pulls her down the bed, placing her under him and pushing their pillows out of the way so he can pin her hands above her head as he kisses her, slowly making his way down her body and leaving her hands behind. He kisses her breasts, teasing the nipples and giving her goosebumps.   
He kisses her inner thigh, slowly inching closer and closer to her pulsing core, until finally he’s  _there_  and every part of her body seems to be moving of its own accord in response. “Bellamy,” she says between breaths, “Bellamy.”   
He pulls himself up to her height, his erection touching her stomach as he replies, “yes, Princess?”  
"…in me," is her breathless statement. It’s a direction that Bellamy isn’t likely to contradict, and again he places her hands above her head, this time holding them there as he slides into her, watching the ‘o’ form on Clarke’s lips as he does so. He kisses her as he pulls out and thrusts all the way in again, checking to make sure she’s okay before he picks up the pace, driving in and out of her as her legs lock around his hips, pulling him ever closer to her until her body completely relaxes, his name on her lips and his seed in her womb. 

He wakes up an hour or two later with her head on his chest and her arm across his stomach.  _I guess we’re both winners today, Princess._ He kisses her forehead and shuts his eyes, grateful for the day they’ll have off from work post-victory.  _Maybe we’ll play another game…_


End file.
